My name is Owen Lars, moisture farmer extraordinaire. My step-brother, Anakin Skywalker, was betrayed and murdered by his mentor, Obi-wan Kenobi. I know this because Watto told me. This blog site is intended to raise awareness in the greater Mos Eisley area that this criminal is at large, living in our community, and what I, and hopefully others who care, plan to do about it.


Wedding bells?

Beru keeps hounding me to marry her. This unwanted discussion pops up from time to time, but seems more routine since that baby entered our lives. She says he needs a proper home, with a real mother and father. She also wants us to legally adopt him, something that’s going to cost a bunch of money, no doubt. When she gets on these tirades, I try to block it out, but today she was especially persistent.

To get her off my back, I told her I was going into town to look at wedding rings. She was so delighted she began crying. As I made my way to the speeder, she kept on about how happy I had made her, and what this meant to her, blah, blah, blah. When I got to Mos Eisley, I made a bee-line for the cantina. All my mates were there, and we had a great time cutting up and frolicking. After we closed the place down, I went home to find dad once again passed out on Shmi’s grave. This time he hadn’t tried to dig her up with his bare hands. Beru came outside to greet me, as she had stayed up worrying about me.

I explained to Beru that I had searched all over town, but they were all out of engagement rings. She didn’t believe me. Some trust our relationship has! In anger, I went inside, tripping clumsily over the sleeping baby’s basinet. Needless to say, Luke woke up; screaming so loud he almost woke up Shmi, Anakin, and Obi-wan’s Jedi friend. So now as I write this, the whole homestead’s in tears, all because of Beru. I hope she’s happy, she got what she wanted!

Lars- out!


Sniper attack!

I fell victim to a deadly sniping incident this morning. I had to visit Mos Eisley to buy some spare parts for the moisture vaporator located on the West-West corner of the farm. My contact there gets stuff that “falls off trucks”, and sells them to me cheap. On my way to his shop, I suddenly felt a powerful burning sensation in my right buttock. Immediately after, I felt the same thing in my right hip. I glanced at the nearby windows and soon discovered the tortfeasor: a Braskian Millwom. The Millwom is a small, furry creature with the propensity to deal great bodily harm to others. Its cuddly exterior is the perfect cover to hide its malicious intentions. Its weapon of choice is an X-14 sniper rifle, not charged enough to kill, but just to inflict serious pain. The little S.O.B. was perched on a window ledge just above me. I turned around to avoid the assault, just to catch two more rounds, this time in my LEFT buttock and hip. I cursed his family as I writhed in pain on the dusty road. At long last a nasty Rodian came to my aid, trying to pull me to safety. I told him to keep his filthy green hands off of me; I’d rather keep getting shot than have his groder hands touching me. So he left me there, and I got shot a bunch more times.

They never did catch the assailant, the Mos Eisley po-po said they had bigger crimes to solve. Just like the filth! Never there when you need them, but when you write a completely innocent bad check, they’re at your door to take you downtown. I’ll tell you, if I ever catch that Millwom, I’ll rip its fur off with my teeth and filet its flesh over R2’s flamethrower attachment.

When I got home, bruised and broken, I vented my anger on Beru. She allows me to do that. I would’ve done it to dad, but he was busy sharpening his switch-blades, so I decided to leave him alone. After that, I felt so much better. Beru’s a good sport.

Lars- out!


Escape from rehab

I slept like a dead Gungan last night. Without dad around, things are much more peaceful. While eating breakfast, I perused some of the paperwork that the rehab clinic had given for me to sign. I almost choked on my puffed pork when I saw the fee agreement! 125 credits a day?!! Could that be right? You can stay at a 4-star hotel for that kind of bread! We can’t afford 30 days of that. In my exuberance to get rid of dad/get dad help, I must have missed that part about the money.

Without kissing Beru or that baby goodbye, I jumped in my speeder and headed to town. I had to get dad out of their immediately. He’s beyond help, anyway. 30 days there wouldn’t change him. He’ll be glad to leave. Unfortunately, I was proven wrong when I visited the clinic. The director said dad had a rough detox, but was now over it. Today they were going to start group counseling. Amazingly, I discovered that dad really loved the place, and was excited about changing and confronting his issues head-on. He also looked twenty years younger, and looked and smelled great.

I had to lie to the old man, telling him that he didn’t really have any problems. I told him it was normal to smoke death sticks and drink bacta and dig up bodies and piss in a jar that you spit your snuff in. I told him it wasn’t at all unusual to fist-fight with family as you spit at them and shout profanities, damning them to an eternity on Mustufar.

He didn’t buy it. I then broke out the big guns. I told him I would buy him some death sticks if he left immediately. He wrestled with the choice. As his doctors tried to convince him to stay, I pantomimed smoking a death stick, pretending to inhale slowly, and then rolling my eyes into my head to simulate the “high”. He finally cracked. We got him some death sticks on the way home. Tonight he got really stoned and verbally and physically assaulted Beru. Oh, well, at least I saved us a lot of money. Once again, Owen’s the hero!

Lars- out!



Dad’s room really stunk this morning. I discovered the unholy aroma after Beru woke me up to tell me I missed my court appointment today. I might be in a lot of trouble. Anyway, the smell was so bad I had to go in there to investigate. Dad was huddled in a corner smoking death sticks. Next to him was a pile of Luke’s soiled diapers. Why they were there, I don’t know. Dad didn’t like that I caught him in the act, and began chucking the diapers at me. One hit me square in the face while my mouth was open. That’s it! He has officially gone too far! I dragged the worthless old man through the house and out to the land speeder. Dad’s going to rehab, end of story.

When we got to the clinic, some men helped me take dad inside. He fought and cursed them, calling their mothers all sorts of names. I filled out a bunch of paperwork as they sedated him. They then let me tour the facility, dad’s new home for the next 30 days. I must admit that their methods seemed a bit inhumane. I witnessed several acts of abuse towards the patients. The staff members played sadistic games with them, in some instances flat-out torturing them. One such patient was being held in a wrestling “lock” while a staff member bit her in strange places. I figured this was the perfect place for dad. These guys would straighten him out.

On the way home I passed the Mos Eisley Courthouse. I remembered my missed court appointment, and thought that I should probably call them later. It’s going to be so nice having dad away from the next month. The staff told me I could visit him twice a week, if I want. Yeah, right!

Lars- out!


A leaner, healthier Owen

I’m getting fat. After dealing with my dad, his addictions, that lying, man slaughterer neighbor of mine, that loud, obnoxious baby, and everyone being against me, I felt it was time to deal with me, and what OWEN needs. And after stepping on my space-scale, it’s obvious what I need is to lose weight. I think all that puffed pork I’ve been eating has finally caught up with me. Maybe diet and exercise are the very things I need to outlet my negative energy, turning it into something positive. With my robes on, it’s hard to tell, but I’ve definitely gained. I think it’s sympathy weight, being that we have a new child. I must’ve subconsciously gained while Beru was not pregnant with Luke.

So I decided to take matters into my own hands. All day I planned my routine for the next six harvests. At first, I would do 1750 sit-ups and 1600 push-ups a day. I would follow this up with a brisk 15-mile run through the desert, being sure to avoid the filthy Tusken camps along the way. After, I would bench-press R2; probably 16 sets of 12 reps a day, for starters.

Next, the diet. I excitedly decided that from now on all I would eat is what Mother Tatooine provided. Having an underground garden would prove quite valuable in this endeavor. I would consume only organic foods, untouched by filthy pesticides and unnatural preservatives. Most People don’t realize, but there’s basically a healthy substitute for all mass-produced foods. Instead of eating omelets for breakfast, I’ll eat tofomomelets. Instead of Jawa, I’ll eat tofawa. Instead of chocolate and cookies, I’ll consume tofacholate and tofookies. It’s all good, and I haven’t even mentioned the carob!

Today was going to be my first day, but after my dad cursed me for breaking the chain that goes from his belt to his wallet, I was so upset I ate an entire bag of puffed pork. After that, there was hardly any point in exercising. Yet another thing dad ruined for me!

Lars- out!


The Four White Shirts

I woke up so depressed today that I felt like driving my land speeder off a cliff. I just didn’t want to live anymore! I remembered the episode a couple of nights ago when I came home and announced to Beru in a prophetic statement, “Guess what, Beru? I just heard a story about a moisture farmer that was raising an infant child that wasn’t even his, and guess what he did, Beru? He drove his speeder right off the friggin’ cliff!” The funniest part is, I think he had the right idea. As much as dad talks openly about suicide, and how he doesn’t fear the reaper, I sometimes feel he speaks in such circles to receive pity from us, and as this might fly with Beru, I’m not baited by it one bit. So to escape all of the recent madness, I decided to visit the cantina, the place where everybody knows my name, and they’re always glad I came. Almost immediately, my path crossed with four employees of “New Beginnings,” a men’s group and support group for those with life-controlling problems. They wore nautical-type shirts, with shoulder-insignia to boot, and had apparently happened by on their way home from the day shift. At first, the four “gentlemen” seemed very prim and proper, and explained to me that their “home” could help my dad kick his death sticks habit for good, and could also counsel him in regards to the death of his spouse/slave, Shmi. The do-gooders promised a whole bunch, for a nominal fee, but after watching the four white-shirts, and how they decided to unwind, it was obvious that I was taking a bit of a chance. After a bit, two of them left violently-ill, perhaps going too far with the local elixir, while the other two, Jacob Charletson and Wart Tars, remained behind. I still hoped in the remaining duo, all the while apprehensive. It didn’t take long to realize they were a bit off-pudding.

The remaining two had distinctive ranks. One had two stripes on his epaulets, while the other, obviously lesser drone, commanded only one stripe. After a horrifying revelation, I realized that the two “sailors” were attempting to combine their stripes to an even 1.5! I was quite sickened by all of this! Why did I even leave the homestead at all tonight? Oh, wait, now I remember why. No, I can’t! But these two white-shirted rejects became worse off as the evening progressed! Before long, I left the freaks behind, accepting their business card in an attempt to pacify them. What jerks! In a strange way, I can’t wait to go home and experience normalcy. Life is strange, I’ll tell you that!

Lars- out!



Well, it’s official, my own father has joined forces with my sworn enemy, Obi-wan Kenobi! He returned from the murderer’s lair this morning, happily singing the praises of our new Jedi neighbor. He kept ranting about what a great guy Obi-wan was, and how they stayed up all night talking. He said Obi-wan clarified for him what had happened with Anakin, and how Obi-wan killed him in self-defense because Anakin had turned evil and killed children and what-not! WHAT??!! The worst part is that dad believed it all! He then told dad that the republic is now the galactic empire, run by Emperor Palpatine, who turned out to be an evil sith lord, or something. I couldn’t believe the amount of lies Obi-wan had told, and that dad had bought them all. All day, dad would bring up something funny that Obi-wan had said, or tell us how wonderful a guy he is. In fact, dad now refers to him as “his new son.” As far as communicating with Shmi, Obi-wan had told him that only those strong in the force can commune with the living, and so he couldn’t help dad in that area. But dad seemed fine with that, because his new son was so wonderful, and he had made a life-long friend.

I was so enraged, I went out looking for a Jawa to beat to a pulp. I searched for a long time, but couldn’t find any. So, instead I picked up some sand and threw it violently into the wind. Unfortunately, the wind blew it back in my face, stinging my eyes and temporarily blinding me.

What was I going to do now? Everyone was against me. I was very quiet at dinner, pondering my next course of action. Dad asked me to pass the salt, but I told him we were out. Then he said I was a sith because I dealt in absolutes. What the heck does that mean? Something he got from his new son, no doubt.

Lars- out!